Logan and His Prince
by Amledo
Summary: Logan is just 15 when he is forced to take the throne. He must rule Albion and help his brother to grow into the man he's meant to be. Logan lives with a dark truth concerning his brother and a blind seer. T for later situations. Now complete.
1. Muddy Prince Trumps King

(A/N: More Fable 3 fanfiction from me. I still don't own the game, and I think Lionhead may just be deleting my e-mailed requests for Logan. At any rate this is at present just a cute little family fic. I warn you that it will change and I will warn you when that change happens. That being said, on with the show!)

Chapter 1—Muddy Prince Trumps King

Logan let his breath leave him in a soft rush, his eyes falling closed and his arms reflexively wrapping around the smaller body in his lap. He was so close to tears to a nervous breakdown to simply losing himself. But the Prince always came home, always greeted his brother with an over-enthusiastic hug that left both of them in the dirt. Logan didn't care in the least how dirty his clothes got, and he clutched his little brother to his chest in relief, kissing the child's head and allowing a few tears to fall. At 8 years old, the Prince was striving for something like independence and it led to him vanishing quite often. Which, was not something that Logan liked, or even handled very well, and he had handled being crowned King of Albion at only 15 just over a year prior.

"I was so worried about you. Don't you realize that you are all I have left?" Logan whispered into his brother's dark hair, it had grown long and shaggy over the last months. But Logan would never consider making the child cut it, after all, their father had been the one to cut their hair, and he was no longer around, it just didn't seem right. The Prince, coated in mud and shaking from cold folded himself closer to Logan's chest and tucked his fingers into the plates of armor that covered the young King's torso.

"I'm sorry brother. I didn't mean to make you worry. I was playing with my new friend Eliot, and I guess I didn't think about the time, or the rain," the Prince whispered gently, his breathing hindered by the crush of his big brother's arms. He was used to his brother's possessive nature, and the slight separation anxiety just seemed to be a by-product of losing their parents just over a year ago. The Prince was perfectly content to spend most days sitting in his brother's lap or at his side while he presided over the matters of the Kingdom, if only because he knew that it made Logan feel better. Their father had never allowed the younger Prince to know anything about the management of Albion, but Logan did, Logan treated him like an adult. At least when he wasn't scared half to death about losing him.

"Eliot? Who is he? Where did you meet him?" the King tried his best not to be angry or jealous that his brother had a new friend. After all children should have friends their own age and Logan couldn't always be there for his brother. But still, what if something had happened to the rebellious Prince? Logan loosened his grip on the smaller boy and stared in to brilliantly innocent eyes. He didn't care how undignified they must look, a King splayed out on the muddy ground, mud covered younger brother planted firmly in his lap. All that mattered to him was his brother's happiness.

"I think he's a gardener's son, well one of the servants anyway. But he's very nice. He's teaching me how to swim," the Prince declared softly, trying to take some of the worry away from his brother's mind. Logan smiled shakily and hugged his brother closer. It wasn't as bad as he thought, but still trying to learn to swim could end badly. No, it would be something that the King took responsibility for from now on. He would simply make the concession of allowing Eliot, whoever he was, playtime with the Prince, so long as it was in the Castle or on the grounds.

"I can teach you to swim silly. You should have just asked. But if Eliot is such a good friend then what do you say to having him to dinner this weekend? You two could have a sleep over, and I wouldn't have to worry about either of you getting hurt playing in the city," Logan said in an appeasing manner, hoping that his brother would not think it too over-protective of him. But the younger boy beamed at him brightly and placed a muddy kiss on the King's cheek before bouncing up and out of his brother's lap.

"I'll go send a messenger to invite him!" the Prince's voice was bright and again Logan felt a stab of jealousy. But he ignored it and did his best to replace it with happiness for the child. Sir Walter Beck, privy to the entire happening, looked on the young King with sympathy and held a hand out to help him to his feet. Logan took it and together they got him back onto his feet, the Knight noticed the sad eyes of his King as they followed the Prince.

"Perhaps being around children his own age will keep him from growing up too quickly," Walter advertised, not commenting on the painfully tight grip the young King exerted on his wrist. The older man had fought for King Sparrow for many years, and had helped to raise Logan. He knew just how much the passing of the King and Queen had gotten to the young man. For all his decisiveness and supposedly reserved nature, Logan was incredibly sensitive and insecure. The Prince was perhaps one of the only things that kept the King rooted to reality. Walter secretly feared for the safety of young Logan's mind, 16 was much too young to have the problems of an entire Kingdom fall onto your shoulders.

"I can only hope so. I don't want my brother to be me. I only hope to protect him from the world as long as possible. One day Walter, I know that he will come to hate me, and I'm pretty sure that it will be my fault," Logan's voice was hollow and Walter was not sure where he was speaking from, "I only ask that you be there for him, when I cannot," the King finished in a whisper. Walter merely nodded.

"I will do as you ask. But how can you assume something like that?" Walter asked softly as he walked a few paces behind the King, shaking the blood back into his hand. Logan didn't falter, didn't even pause in his step.

"Because a blind Seer told me so. Protect my brother from me Walter; I love him too much to see him hurt. And should I somehow lose myself…should there be a moment in which I could bring myself to…Gods, just don't let me hurt him," Logan whispered softly, and it struck Walter right in the heart. He clasped the young ruler's shoulder and flinched at the pain in Logan's face when the smaller man turned to face him.

"How long have you suffered with this knowledge?" Walter breathed it, not demanding to be told, but so desperate to help. Logan's eyes filled with tears and Walter didn't even need to think about drawing the younger man into his arms. The boy needed a father, and failing that, Walter would protect him to the best of his abilities.

"Since the night of my coronation. She apologized to me for having to bring me such tidings. She told me…that the outcome was not set, that things were still hazy. I may not live to tell my brother I am sorry, and I don't even know what it is that I will do. The woman told me to love my brother while I can, and she gave me a glimpse into my own mind. My future mind, and all I could see was fear," Logan said it is broken sobs as he allowed himself to cry into Walter's chest. He was supposed to be so strong, but the things that woman had told him, the way she had made him feel, it left him with no internal support, nothing to cling to. Walter's hands were strong and warm, wiping his tears away and reminding him of his father, King Sparrow had been such a strong man, but he had always taken the time to comfort his children. The memory brought a smile to Logan's face and he quickly regained his composure.

"Well then, I suggest you take her advice and spend all the time you can with the Prince. I'm sure that he will love it. And, I would be more than happy to train the young man, should my King think himself a danger," Walter stated calmly, pretending that there were not tearstains on his tunic and that the King's face was not red. Logan nodded slowly, his eyes still watery but clearing.

"You should train him regardless of what is to become of me. War is never far off in Albion," Logan replied and moved to go after his brother. The Prince had a bad habit of tracing mud all through the castle, and the King was the one who caught the accusatory glances of the servants for it. He would throw the child clothing and all into a bath before he dealt with another day of soggy carpets.

He found the young Prince shortly, mid-argument with Jasper about being able to send a messenger. The butler was obviously not having any of the Prince's outburst, which had something to do with either Balverines or Hobbes. Logan found himself laughing lightly, even as he scooped his younger brother into his arms; no mean feat given how big the Prince was getting. Still indignant the Prince put his arms around his brother's neck and buried his head there, hiding from Jasper.

"My brother has made a new friend Jasper. It is my desire to invite this boy to the Castle so that he and my brother may have some time for play. Please send someone to ask his parents' permission for us," Logan said in a diplomatically calm voice, even though he was struggling not to laugh. The Prince had begun chewing on the King's neck in a highly ticklish location and Logan silently cursed his kid brother as a monster. Ever since infancy the Prince had had a tendency to chew on or bite people's necks or sides, or the backs of their legs, and Logan as the big brother had suffered loads of it. He tilted his head to the side and squashed the Prince against his shoulder, causing the smaller boy to grumble in defeat.

"It shall be done my King. But I do still say that the Prince needs a bath. And you could benefit from one yourself. You both smell like wet Balverine now," Jasper said with mild disdain and Logan smiled at the butler's honesty. He got that from very few people these days. Nodding an agreement Logan shifted the Prince to ride piggy back and held firmly to the boy's legs; there would be no running from bathing today.

(A/N: That's the end of my first chapter. I'm not sure how many there are going to be, but trust me I don't plan on rushing this. Hope you like it. And yes there is eventual slash, but for now it's just cute family stuff. I will warn everyone when It's going to be changing so that they can stop reading if it offends them.)


	2. Thunderstorms and a Brother's Arms

(A/N: Wow, chapter 2 already. And it's still cute! Yay for cuteness! I don't own Fable blah blah blah…And I promise that you will be warned before this fic takes a turn for the strange. At any rate, I hope you like this and can't wait to see your reviews ^_^)

Chapter 2—Thunderstorms and a Brother's Arms

Logan was relaxing in his chambers, reading a book on policy that his father had written. His hair was still damp from his bath and he definitely did not smell like a wet Balverine. But the storm had picked up, and it raged against his windows with such noise that he was finding it hard to concentrate, let alone comprehend what he was reading. Defeated he set the book aside and let his head drop back against the headboard of the bed. He still slept in his own rooms, not sure what he should do with the ones that had belonged to his parents, and feeling guilty for thinking about ever touching them.

A particularly bright flash of lightning made his room glow more intensely than daylight and Logan silently counted the seconds, barely managing to reach 'two' before an ear-splitting crack of thunder tore through his perception. Once again he began counting, eyes on the door as he shifted to one side of the bed and placed his second pillow on the open side.

Right on cue his doors burst open and his younger brother came running into the room. There wasn't a pause or even a request for permission, the Prince simply dove into Logan's bed and hid under the covers. Logan frowned as he thought for a moment, where was the Prince's usual companion, the stuffed chicken their mother had given the boy when he was just an infant. He calmly reached under the blankets and hauled the shaking mass that was his brother up toward the pillow as gently as he could.

"Where's Clucky?" Logan asked calmly as the Prince's head finally cleared the quilt it had been tucked under. At once the Prince went wide-eyed and began to search Logan's bed for the stuffed animal. He stared up at his brother pleadingly and Logan sighed. This had happened before, and would probably happen again. Part of him was beginning to wonder if he was coddling the boy. He flipped the blankets off of himself and got out of bed. Calmly he walked around to the other side and offered his hand to the Prince. Instantly his little brother clung on and Logan led the way back to the younger boy's bedroom.

Any time lightning would flash the Prince would edge closer to Logan's leg, until Logan had to pick him up to keep from being tripped. He spotted Clucky as soon as they entered the Prince's bedroom and while still managing to hold onto the younger boy, plucked the toy up from the floor. His brother's smile was worth the backache that he had coming to him the next day. Oh yes, Logan knew that he was far too soft, but he didn't have any intention of changing that behavior. It was his plan for keeping the predictions of the Seer from coming to pass. How could his brother hate him if he was the best brother that he could be?

"Thank you Logan," the Prince, who was supposed to be asleep, said softly and cuddled Clucky against himself. For all of his grown up moments the young Prince had just as many when he seemed to be younger than he actually was. Logan attributed it to his brother's lack of age appropriate peers and decided that maybe Eliot really would be good for him. While Logan himself had never really known how to act as a child, always erring on the side of responsibility and honor, he wanted very much for his brother to have a proper childhood. Perhaps it was Logan's own self-imposed early adulthood that kept him from telling his brother no.

"No problem Baby Bird," Logan said softly, finally comfortable with using his father's nickname for the boy. It certainly made the Prince smile. And not much could do that on stormy nights. That much at least let Logan know that he was doing the right thing.

"You were reading," the Prince stated quietly and Logan glance at the book on his bedside table. It was true, he had been reading, but he could already understand the hurt and fearful look in his brother's eyes. It was a look that the child had no right to know how to wear. But he guessed that fear of retribution for interrupting an 'adult' was in the back of every kid's mind. He just rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Like I could manage with all of that racket. Don't worry about it Baby Bird. It's not important right now. Get some sleep, okay?" Logan spoke softly, easing the fear that he saw in those bright eyes. Their mother's eyes big and innocent, Logan's eyes did not carry the same warmth though they were undeniably similar to the Prince's and their mother's. Both boys had Sparrow's hair, a point of frustration for their mother who 'never knew what to do with it' if for no other reason than Sparrow's negligent hair trimming habits.

"'Kay," the Prince muttered and hunkered down, arms wrapped tightly around Clucky. "Logan?" it had barely been a minute but the Prince's small sleepy voice made its presence known. Logan sighed, now they really were getting too old for this.

"Hold your horses, I have to put the lights out," Logan said brightly, ruffling the other boy's hair. He got up one last time and turned the lamps out, smelling the spent oil and wrinkling his nose at it. There really had to be a better way to light the place. But that wasn't for him to contemplate; maybe that nut job Reaver with all his mad ideas about industry could put some thought to it.

He thought about it for a moment and then went to the large windows around the room, making sure that the drapes were closed. It would just interrupt his night of sleep if there were constant flashes of too-bright light making his room flicker. So he closed all of them and paused to stare at the final lamp, older than most of the ones in the room. It was the only spark of light in the room, a strange golden orange a mix of the fire that fueled it and the amber that had been made into the cover over it. It was something that his father had made, long before he was King, when he had been living in a gypsy caravan. The lamp had survived so much, and though it was a bit clouded by age the care that had gone into making it was still obvious.

As he sat on the edge of the bed he turned the flame of the lamp down until it was nothing more than a soft glow of dim light. It would burn down before the night was out, but not soon enough that the Prince would be kept awake by it. With that Logan tucked himself under the blankets and allowed his kid brother to wiggle closer. It always went this way because the Prince would never just ask to be held onto. It wasn't like Logan was oblivious to the fact that the Prince needed the comfort, apparently the child just had a bit more pride than he regularly admitted to. But it had always been Logan that the Prince came to, never to their mother or father.

For as long as he could remember, even back when they shared a bedroom, stormy nights saw the Prince in his older brother's bed. Logan had never asked why and he was secretly pleased that the younger boy trusted him enough to protect him from the storms. Their father had never complained about the affection the sibling pair showed each other, and at the time Logan didn't understand what that had to do with Aunt Rose, but now he did and he shuddered at the thought. The Prince was his world, his little brother meant everything to him, and there was no way that Logan would survive losing him.

When the Prince finally pressed close enough Logan wrapped the smaller boy in his arms and allowed his kid brother's head to rest on his chest. Clucky was squashed between them, and perhaps the only thing keeping Logan's ribs from the crushing force of the terrified child's arms. Logan had never allowed himself to be afraid of storms, never even thought to ask for comfort even when he didn't understand what was happening. He knew that his parents would have given it, but he had never felt comfortable asking. As he stroked his brother's too-long hair, slowly easing the child into sleep, he wondered what it was that had made him so very strange as a child.

Logan wasn't sure that he would ever know what it was that had made him so different. After all, to him it was just the way that he had been, and in a way he guessed that he'd brought it on himself. He had expected himself to behave like an adult, because he was a Prince, because he was next in line for the throne and he didn't want to embarrass his father. No one had ever told him that those were requirements, nor had anyone ever scolded him for behaving childishly, his own parents behaved like children often enough. Logan smirked softly, he most certainly didn't want his brother to wind up like him and he was damn well going to make sure that he didn't even if that meant allowing random children to run all over the Castle. The staff would have to deal with it, especially if it was their own children that the Prince called friends. Yes, Logan would give his kid brother a proper childhood.

When he closed his eyes at last and began to fall asleep the Prince had already been snoring away for several minutes. He allowed his head to rest against his brother's and gave in to dreaming.

(A/N: Not too bad yeah? I wish I had a brother like Logan, in my mind I can make him such a sweetie, totally wouldn't have broken my toys or anything.)


	3. Rescuing His Prince

(A/N: Ok, so here's where the story picks up a bit more violence and a little more uncomfortableness. So if you don't like incredibly mild slash, and I mean mild, like I shouldn't even bother mentioning it but I am so that you can't yell at me for it later, then don't read it. Mild Eliot/Prince and even milder Logan/Prince, not to mention obligatory mentions of Reaver/Sparrow. Violence, sorry to say is pervasive, and I myself do not actually feel this way about the gay community. I quite love them as a group. Still don't own Fable 3! See you at the bottom of the chapter!)

Chapter 3—Rescuing His Prince

Logan sighed softly and stretched out on the throne, crown tilted sideways on his head, boredom apparent in his eyes. He was 18 now, and it had been two years since he'd invited his brother's friends to invade the Castle. While the 10 year old did occasionally grace Logan with his presence it was rare enough that the King's eyes brightened when the Prince walked into his presence. His day had been dull to say the least and his brother could provide a perfect excuse to get him out of his duties for the day. But something was wrong, and Logan knew it. He was off the throne in a heartbeat and catching the Prince as he fell.

He held his brother delicately and looked him over; there was a great deal of bruising on his face, already purple and livid. His jaw wasn't sitting quite right and the boy's left arm dangled in the wrong direction, limp and useless. The Prince's right hand was fisted in Logan's hair dislodging the crown from the King's head, sending it rolling across the floor. Logan didn't care, his brother was severely hurt, his body more battered than Logan had ever seen their father's, and he didn't seem to quite understand where he was.

"Please don't hurt me anymore. I'm sorry. Please leave Eliot alone, please, it's not his fault," tiny words whispered between hiccupping sobs but enough to stop Logan's heart cold. He cradled his brother's body in his arms, but the child had grown quickly, and now at almost 5'6" it was a difficult task for the King. The Prince may have grown quickly in height but never quite put on enough muscle to protect himself. Logan's eyes were full of tears as he carried his brother back to his private chambers, where he knew the boy would be safe, calling for doctors as he did so. And he knew that his brother's safety was not where his responsibility ended, as soon as he had a doctor to tend to his Prince he would find Eliot.

"Baby Bird, you have to tell me what happened," Logan whispered softly, fighting tears and failing as he surveyed the damage done to his brother. Someone had done a number on the poor child's head, and dark hair was sticky and matted with blood. Both eyes were nearly swollen shut, his nose looked broken and there was no doubt that his jaw would need to be reset. Logan stroked his thumbs over his brother's soft lips, wondering why they were untouched when the boy began to cough.

"Logan, did I find you? You gotta stop 'em. I think they're gonna kill Eliot. Logan it's all my fault. We were playing down in Industrial, with some of the other kids. I'm sorry Logan, I got Eliot hurt…I'm gonna get him killed," the Prince was crying as he tried to convey all of this to his older brother and Logan listened closely, carefully. Industrial was a dangerous place for a child, but the Prince and Eliot would have had a guard with them, to keep them safe. Though they had eluded their guards before, and there was no doubt that the Prince was citing this as the reason for Eliot's dilemma, Logan needed to know.

"What do you mean kill him? Who, why?" Logan whispered, fear in his voice, he needed to know but he couldn't delay much longer. Eliot was most certainly in trouble if someone had been willing to do this to the Crown Prince of Albion. The Prince moved his lips, trying to find words, instead coughing so violently that blood speckled the sleeve of his unbroken arm. Logan saw red then, he would execute whoever it was that had done this, no matter the reason.

"People, grown-ups. They weren't happy, but they didn't kill me, cuz I'm the Prince. I knew I shouldn't have done it but I did," the Prince whimpered and Logan resisted the urge to brush those tears away, knowing it would hurt. He knew that most anything that he could do would hurt the Prince. Holding him had probably hurt him.

"What did you do?" Logan begged, not understanding what children could have done to set the group of people off. The Prince could find no more words and could barely draw a breath; Logan leaned closer, listening for the closest thing to an answer that he could get. Instead he got an almost apologetic expression and a pair of un-battered lips pressed against his own, a miserable desperation behind them. He was so shocked that he didn't move, his body frozen as he understood the gravity of what his brother had done. Logan allowed his brother to pull away, and schooled his expression into calm determination before nodding in understanding. As he rose he laid a kiss on the back of his brother's right hand and muttered a quick assurance.

"I'm going to stop them. I will bring Eliot back. And no matter what happens, I still love you, my Baby Bird," Logan said it gently and then was gone. Leaving the doctor to stare after the teary-eyed King and wonder at the broken Prince.

Logan's legs, longer now than just a couple years ago, propelled him forward as quickly as they could, and still he felt it wasn't fast enough. He sprinted to the stables and shouted for a couple of mounted guards to follow him as he swung himself onto the back of somebody's saddled horse. No one was going to fight the King when such a desperate expression was fixed on his face.

All the while Logan was trying to reason out how the battered Prince, a child that was barely conscious and completely lacking for perception had made it back to and through the castle without notice. Or for that matter, what sort of strange will had carried the boy onward even after such a brutal attack? His Baby Bird was only 10 years old, and still someone had almost killed him. For something so simple, so very innocent that it didn't make sense. And again, how did the Prince make it back home? A grown man would have been felled by such an attack. Logan's mind was unraveling with stress and fear, but still he rode on, trying to devote his thoughts to the singular goal of saving another child's life.

His thoughts stopped at once as Logan's eyes met with Reaver's carriage, leaving the Castle, headed towards Industrial. The King urged his horse on, suddenly understanding the gesture of kindness afforded to him by the eccentric business man. As he came along side the carriage the window was already open, Reaver looking directly at him, pained and concerned all at once. Logan had long understood Reaver's association with King Sparrow and accepted it at face value; it never lessened his father's greatness in his mind. And if it gave Reaver motivation to care whether the Prince lived or died, then it was a good thing.

"I've brought you your Prince my young King. What else could you seek so desperately," Reaver was clearly fighting to maintain his air of posh aloofness, and he was failing. That in itself frightened Logan.

"My brother had a companion. Another boy," Logan spoke as clearly as he could with the ferocity of the horse galloping beneath him and the clattering of the carriage. Reaver's face faulted, Logan could tell that it conflicted the man, should he care or not?

"I saw no other child, met none of his assailants. I didn't understand why anyone would hurt the Prince alone. But it makes less sense if he had a companion," Reaver's voice faltered, Logan knew that the man saw Sparrow in them both and was glad to see humanity in the man's eyes. Logan frowned more sharply then, so they had already taken Eliot away before Reaver could get there. He knew that they'd meant to leave the Prince behind anyway, and surely that was why Reaver was so confused.

"It only makes more sense, unfortunately," Logan said it quietly but he knew that Reaver heard him, and he was certain that Reaver understood the gesture the King made then, running his fingers over his own lips and shaking his head. When Logan next looked the industrialist wore fury like a mask and was loading a pistol. Logan accepted it for what it was, regret at not having tracked down the ones that hurt the Prince. But the King was endlessly thankful that the Industrialist had brought the Prince home.

They were fast approaching Bowerstone Industrial and Logan's blood was boiling worse than ever. He was going to shed blood, it was a thought that never left his mind, this day he would make the decision to do what his father never would have done. None of the guards that had followed Logan said a word against the plans that they knew he was making. Someone had hurt the Prince and that was all that mattered.

Logan followed Reaver as soon as the man was out of the carriage, they followed a trail of blood and boot scrapes down to a door that led into the sewers. Anger kept both men from wrinkling their noses and they headed inside. They could hear laughing and angry words, and Logan found Reaver's hand a vice on his arm, body pressed close, keeping him from charging blindly forward. Instead Reaver took out a spare pistol and pressed it into Logan's hand while taking aim himself.

"Defend yourself only. I owe too much to Sparrow to let you become a murderer, even for this," Reaver said softly and continued to hold Logan in place.

A few deadly accurate shots later and Reaver led Logan to where Eliot lay, abused but alive. The remaining assailants looked horrified and before the guards could stop him, Reaver's gun was pressed against one of the men's heads. Logan pulled Eliot into his arms, forsaking the unneeded gun that Reaver had given him, he would have his vengeance one way or another, but for right now, he wanted only to fulfill his brother's request of protecting the other boy.

"I demand to know what right you think you have to do this! To the Prince no less. I want to hear it from your lips, what did these boys do to deserve this!" Reaver was shouting, beyond rationality and the man at the other end of the gun knew that it was his last day alive. Logan had never seen Reaver lose his composure in such a way, and to be so emotional…it was definitely not Reaver. There was something more going on than a few trysts with King Sparrow. Reaver twisted the pistol in his hand so that it rested directly against the man's neck.

"Queers, the both of 'em" the man spat, defiant knowing that no matter what he said, his life would end. Reaver didn't pull the trigger as Logan thought he would, instead the business man pressed his whole frame against the man's, holstered his pistol and growled.

"What right do you have to judge? Who are you to condemn love in any form? You nearly killed the King's brother, my chi…You…dammit all to hell," Reaver's voice was broken but Logan heard the almost statement and didn't flinch when Reaver began to beat the man. Logan knew that Reaver almost never used his hands, and that the industrialist didn't like to sully himself. Needless to say his brutality was unusual. But the King watched Reaver beat the man to death all the same.

"Lock all of them up! They will be tried publicly," Logan's voice was cold, dark even as Reaver's body language relaxed. The industrialist moved to Logan's side and took a good long look at the King all while searching his pockets. After a moment he produced a tiny vial and poured it down Eliot's throat, watching as the boy instinctively swallowed. The guards had swarmed around them and the nine men lucky enough to have lived were hauled away. Logan carried Eliot in his arms and Reaver brought up the rear, silent, eyes dark.

"We will take my carriage, keep the poor child from being jostled over much," Reaver said calmly, composure regained and Logan just nodded. The King was not resentful of the fact that the industrialist had kept him from killing anyone, but he still had a laundry list of questions for the man.

(A/N: Ok, so who hates me? Reaver, out of character, yes, don't give me that bit because he deserves a moment of utter physical brutality without a pistol in his hand. I was going to make it much more graphic, but I didn't want to hurt your tender sensibilities and all that rot. Please review, I love reviews, think their brilliant I do. See you next chapter then my lovelies (also I'm exceedingly tired right now.))


	4. Sons of a Strange Man

(A/N: Well here it is at last. The 4th chapter of my lovely little story. I almost had to rewrite this beast entirely because of a lost thumb drive. Which would have been bad because I don't think I can get my mental Reaver to ever cooperate for something like that twice. Yes more Reaver, and so very out of character, but I think it's acceptable in this sense. I don't own Fable 3 and this chapter contains mentions of Reaver/Sparrow and allusions to last chapter's warnings.)

Chapter 4—Sons of a Strange Man

"I know you have them Logan, so ask," Reaver whispered, surprising Logan with his openness. They sat on a seat together, watching Eliot's abused form slowly beginning to heal some of the most severe damage. Logan turned his head slightly and Reaver's eyes met his, resignation apparent in the immortal's eyes.

"Who were you to my father?" Logan asked it calmly, without desire for a confrontation. Reaver smiled sadly and shook his head.

"To the man you believe to be your father, I am no one, a shadow in his life."

"Believe to be? Sparrow is our father," Logan said softly, confused.

"No, Queen Sparrow is your mother. The man who called himself Sparrow did so to protect the Queen. After all, the people of Albion wouldn't understand it if their monarch was a male one day and a woman the next. He loved you both like his own children, and he loved Sparrow as though she was truly his wife. I don't think she ever told him who…" Reaver sighed and raked his fingers back through his hair. "You and your Baby Bird, both of you, have always been my children. I don't think your mother is ever going to forgive me for this, but yes, I am your father," Reaver said it quickly and quietly, his head bowed, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenched into fists. Logan blinked as if smacked in the face, considering Reaver's words for a moment before laying his hand over one of Reaver's clenched fists.

"I won't tell my brother, I get the idea that you might want to do that," Reaver nodded softly, "Do you have any other…"

"In three hundred years Sparrow is the first person I had the courage to love. And I don't regret it. I fell for him not long after I met him, and I tried to tell myself that he was just my lover, that I could kill him any time I wanted. Oddly, he took much the same stance with me. I'm not sure when we admitted it, though it was before he found that potion and became her. But I was completely serious about Sparrow. I was responsible for the death of my first love and my first child, it was my fault…and somehow, Sparrow loved me anyway. When she first showed me what had happened…she told me that she wanted children. We had you nine months later. It's my father's name, by the way, Logan…" Reaver trailed his fingers along the fabric of his pants. The King felt himself near to tears, unsure of how to cope with the new information. Reaver was his father; he had a living parent…

"Thank you…Reaver," Logan whispered, earning a smile from the industrialist.

"It's a good thing I don't expect you to call me Dad. But, at some point if you wanted to," Reaver looked wistful in that moment and Logan smiled softly. They had arrived back at the Castle and he knew that their conversation was over but he nodded and gave the other man a very brief hug before carrying Eliot into the Castle. The boy still needed to be seen by a doctor. "Tatty-bye love," Reaver said gently, staring after his son with a soft smile.

Logan left Eliot with his parents, promising to send the doctor just as soon as he could. It seemed that everyone had heard what had happened to the Prince and his friend. Eliot's parents thanked Logan silently, overjoyed and astounded that the King of Albion would go after their child and bring him back to safety. However, Logan's mind was fixed in one direction, his brother, his Prince. He had to see the boy, had to make sure that he was okay.

The doctor was gone when Logan entered his bedchamber, but the Prince was still there, half awake with the covers pulled up to his chin. There was a small pile of battered clothes on the floor and Logan checked to make sure that his brother had at least been helped into pajamas. Satisfied with that knowledge he met the younger boy's eyes and gave him a sad smile.

"Logan," the Prince whispered and reached for his brother with his good arm. Logan kicked his shoes off and sat on the bed beside his brother, allowing the Prince to lie in his lap. The King softly brushed his brother's pale lips with his fingers, still confused by their unblemished state. Some form of sedative or another had made sure that the Prince would remain relaxed, and a painkiller or two left him hazy, Logan could see that much in the boy's face.

"My Baby Bird, I'm so glad you're alright," Logan whispered, finally giving in and lying beside his brother. The younger boy curled against his brother's chest, heedless of the pain it might cause him. But Logan didn't chastise him; he simply embraced the boy and held him close. He didn't know how to react to nearly having lost his brother.

"I'm sorry for being an idiot Logan," the Prince said and looked up, meeting Logan's eyes though his own were still almost swollen shut.

"How are you an idiot?" Logan asked softly, confused once again. The Prince frowned thinking that his brother was playing dumb.

"I kissed Eliot. And I shouldn't have, because I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it one bit. But I wanted to try it, and look what happened," the Prince said gently, much more coherent than Logan expected him to be. He stared into his brother's eyes, seeing Reaver in that innocent face for the first time and wondering how he had missed it before.

"You didn't mean it?" Logan whispered bewildered.

"No it was just practicing so that I could kiss someone else," the Prince said and Logan sighed, he should have expected this stage. Was his little brother starting to notice girls, or boys? He wasn't sure, and he didn't realize until that moment that the responsibility of the 'talk' would have fallen to him. Silently he wished for Reaver and then banished the thought; Reaver was not a good role model.

"You aren't old enough yet, to be worrying about that stuff. You and Eliot, you're both kids. At least wait to go off kissing people for a few years," Logan said softly, eyes closing as he rested his head on his brother's. The smaller boy still smelt like blood, under the soap that had been used to scrub his hair, and the antiseptic that had been spread over several cuts.

"When's a good time for you Logan?" the Prince said, softly, expectantly. Logan sighed in response, tracing his brother's bruised jaw, marveling at the way the bruises faded. He held a Hero in his arms, there was no more mistaking that, no denying it.

"How about you wait until your 16th birthday? And then I can show my Prince to all of Albion. It won't matter so much then," Logan whispered causing the Prince's eyes to brighten and a smile to cross his lips.

"I can handle that, I think," the Prince said and snuggled down into Logan's arms once again. The young King sighed, waiting for his brother to fall asleep and just enjoying the knowledge that the last tie he had to his old life was still alive. A year or two ago and he would have been crying over the near loss of his brother, now he simply kept it inside of himself, knowing that it was not behavior befitting a King. And when sleep claimed the young Prince, Logan pulled himself away, holding himself up slightly and meeting Walter's eyes. The Knight had just walked into the room, and his face fell.

"What…" Walter began to speak and Logan raised his hand for silence, gesturing for the Knight to leave the room. The King followed shortly and leaned against the wall, eyes on the man that had helped to raise him.

"No one told you?" Logan asked softly, his eyes sad though the rest of his face was hard. Sir Walter shook his head and nervously ran a hand back through his hair.

"I was waiting for him to come to lessons. He's always sort of late. And then Jasper told me that he was with you…" Logan saw something of an accusation in Walter's eyes and accepted it. After all, how was Walter to know that Logan could be trusted? But Logan shook his head softly and clenched his jaw.

"Without Reaver, the Prince never would have made it home. The children were in Industrial, playing and our Prince did something, perhaps a little foolish. Though the reaction that it provoked was far too extreme. Eliot is with the doctor now, and I will be putting nine men on trial tomorrow morning," Logan said, attempting to keep if vague, not wanting Walter to scold him for not keeping the Prince away from such behaviors.

"Reaver, you say?" Walter said, following a track that Logan didn't expect the curiosity and worry on the Knight's face made Logan wonder.

"Yes, thankfully Reaver got to the Prince before any more harm could come to him. He brought my brother home and led me to Eliot. Reaver saved two lives today, two, and I get the feeling that he actually enjoyed it," Logan said with a bit of a smile. It would be a time before he could properly smile again, what with his brother and a child he was more or less in charge of, lying in bed having nearly died.

"Well thank the Gods for that. Why is it that two trips were necessary?" Walter spoke as he allowed the King to lead him into a sitting room, calling for tea. Both men knew that the other was dancing around an issue, and Logan was determined to be the one to get it out of the Knight.

"Oh, well Reaver only found the Prince. He wasn't aware that Eliot was even in the picture. I'm sure my brother was raving about the child, but what could Reaver do really with the Prince in such a state. He returned my brother to me, safe and sound, protected him when I couldn't…" Logan smiled softly thinking of the man that he now knew to be his father.

"My King, do you not then think it appropriate to thank Reaver?"

"Oh, I believe that I've given him thanks enough. The ride between here and Industrial is much longer in a carriage," Logan said and sipped at the tea that seemed to have been magically generated by Jasper's speed and stealth. Walter's face faulted and Logan knew that the older man knew exactly who Reaver was. Wouldn't it be fun to have a bit of a joke on the poor old Knight's part?

"M…my King? I fear that I do not understand," Walter said, bright red at the implication that he couldn't help but draw once Reaver had been mentioned.

"Is there much to understand? We remind him so very much of Sparrow, my brother and I. It would be hard to imagine that he feels nothing when he looks at us," Logan said vaguely, watching Walter's eyes grow ever wider. "Of course, I don't think he would have wanted Eliot to know, but the boy was unconscious," the King added and finally Walter choked on his tea.

"But he's…he's your…"

"He's my, what? Walter?" Logan was smiling ear to ear, chuckling lightly at the display.

"You know don't you, and you're putting me on, right?" Walter asked, still slightly mortified.

"Yes, yes, of course. Even Reaver has more tact than that. I'm afraid that he shall have to wait a few more years to think about finally dying, Mother is going to slaughter him for even letting me know. I understand she and Reaver wouldn't necessarily want people knowing. I mean, she went to the trouble of getting someone to pretend to be King Sparrow," Logan relaxed in his chair, "I'm not going to tell my brother. That's Reaver's place. But, Walter, how do you know?" the King's voice was soft, and though he had had a laugh at the Knight's expense, it hadn't really regained its warmth.

"She couldn't tell him, her husband. They loved each other, in some way, more platonically than anything. But she couldn't do that to him. So she told me, because she couldn't live with keeping such a secret, not all on her own. She was Sparrow, Hero of Bower Lake, the man that killed Lucien. And she could tell no one. Everything that she was she poured into her husband, Ted became Sparrow for her. And he never asked for anything in return, never once demanded to be paid for giving her the freedom that she needed. I think not telling, was the best gift she could have given him," Walter said it all in a hushed tone, because in the Castle, the walls often grew ears.

"Did she love my father, Reaver I mean," Logan asked in a quiet reply.

"Gods yes. They loved each other very intensely. Reaver wanted to be here for you, to raise you and to live with Sparrow. He hated having to be apart. But both of them knew that no one in Albion would accept the ageless 'Pirate King' as part of the royal family. He visited as often as he could, and she visited him. That mansion he built was for her, overlooking the very place that she grew up in. I know that Reaver had more or less degenerated since her passing; he hides himself from reality as often as he can. But Sparrow expected as much and loved him anyway. She took his heart with her, I think. Logan, she wasn't going to hide it from you all your life. She wanted to wait until you were old enough, about this age I'd imagine," Walter said softly and Logan nodded.

(A/N: Well nice to see you again reader. If you liked it I hope that you will review and let me know. Likewise if you think there's something that can be improved upon then I would love to hear it. Also Ted is the name of my Sparrow's first husband, they met in Oakfield when Ted sold him a yokel hat. They lived in that little cottage behind the Demon Door until Lucien decided to be a dick.)


	5. Alcoholic Adoration

(A/N: Ok, here's the point where I cough shyly and scuff the toe of my shoe on the floor because I'm sorry and embarrassed that this took so long to get posted. I've been putting up with a lot of crap from my computer and well…none of it is fair. I still don't own Fable in whole or part, so don't come after me. Ok, let's see, this chapter contains slash of the incestuous variety. The Prince is only 15 which by some accounts would be underaged, but it's my damned Albion and I gave Logan the throne at 15 so why the hell not. Ahem, lemon, not terribly graphic, but it's there. I'm going to go blush in the corner now.)

Chapter 5—Alcoholic Adoration, My King, My Brother, My Lover

The Prince was restless, pacing about and tugging on the sleeves of his formal apparel. There was a ball that he had to attend, being held in honor of his brother's 8th year on the throne. It wasn't that he was displeased with the idea of his brother ruling, but even Logan didn't want to have the ball. After all, what fifteen year old wants to attend a stuffy old ball where he's expected to behave? The Prince straightened his hair one last time and glanced at the door, waiting for Logan to come in. He was to be the King's attendant for the night, because Logan was resolutely ignoring most of the women in the kingdom, and well, the Prince wasn't going to complain.

"You ready?" Logan asked calmly, walking through the door and still pulling on his clothing, the armor that he now wore was ornamental and uncomfortable. He smiled at his brother, the boy hadn't grown, and was likely done growing for another couple years, but he was tall enough at 5'7" that he was able to take Logan's arm comfortably. Apparently, as Reaver had informed him, their growth spurts came early and Logan himself was 6'4" and very much done growing.

"You can always call this off," the Prince said brightly, and Logan shook his head with a smile.

"I know, but I've got you to get me through it. The people expect it," Logan whispered, leading his brother down the hall and toward the grand staircase that swept into the ball room. The Prince grinned brightly and then arranged his face into a stately mask. He knew that it was important to be on his brother's arm, that it should be a place for a Lady of the Court.

Logan waved to the people gathered in the ballroom, glad to feel his brother's arm around his own. He knew that it should be a woman, and it was true that he could have picked up any brainless posh woman of nobility, but his brother was the only person that he openly cared about. The tragic Crown Prince orphaned so young, nearly killed by the very people that he served, Logan's only confidant. They had been closer in the last five years than the ones prior to that. Elliot was still the Prince's closest friend but Logan knew that his brother made more than one excuse about learning to be King just to avoid feeling the guilt of the kiss.

"King Logan and the Crown Prince!" Walter announced them as they made their way down the stairs and the Prince stepped forward, extending his hand and bowing his King out onto the ballroom floor. He placed a submissive kiss on his brother's signet ring, smiling secretively up at the King as all the woman began to swoon.

"Good evening my Lords and Ladies. How very nice to see you all, on this the eighth anniversary of my ascension to the throne. I am proud to say that Albion has been both, peaceful and prosperous, just as my mother and father ensured that it would be. Now, this is a party and I find speeches just as boring as you do, so, let's just get right to the celebration," Logan said in a proud booming voice as he stood by the throne that his 'father' had once occupied. The people cheered and Logan ushered the Prince to their mother's throne before claiming his own and watching the guests begin to indulge. A few scurried forward to congratulate him, and many Ladies began to vie for his attention. As was his general practice when this began to happen Logan invited the Prince to squeeze into the throne with him.

"You know, they are going to start thinking you're gay," the Prince said bluntly, his normal decorum lost in a haze of alcohol. Logan shook his head; he would be changing the policy in Albion, and upping the drinking age once again. But for the moment, he would indulge his brother, as his own alcohol intake had ensured a loss of tact on his part. Most of the people in the room were far more lost than either of them, except perhaps Reaver, who was perfectly capable of holding his liquor, and he watched the Prince and the King with a veiled smile.

"Why don't I let them then? It will be less of a shock when they find out that it's true," Logan whispered softly, making his brother blush six different shades of red.

"Logan, really?"

"Yes. Both of us, ah little brother?"

"You know?"

"Always have. There was a time I thought you and Elliot…" Logan's face was just as red, and he was drinking directly from a bottle of wine. The Prince had his own, but Logan wasn't about to take it away. "But, I think there's someone else, someone you've been waiting for," Logan whispered softly in his brother's ear. The Prince blushed violently at the implications. Both of them were pretty well consumed by an alcoholic haze and Logan was much more open than he had been in the last couple years.

"Yes, there is. But I can't tell him. I can't…" the Prince groaned softly when Logan's arm went around his waist, pressing their over-heated bodies closer together. Logan was ready to bail out of the party and embarrassing his brother was likely one of the best ways to do that. Usually such conversations ended with them in the training room, sparring until they were breathless and too exhausted to bicker.

"Why can't you tell him?" Logan's voice maintained a low quality, though the alcohol shone through clearly. He watched Reaver from across the room, and paused when the man gave him a wink and motioned for the King to leave the room. Reaver knew something that Logan didn't, and that made the King very nervous.

"Come with me and I'll tell you," the Prince said with a whisper and a smile. Logan obeyed with a grin and a last swig of wine. The Prince led his away from the party, though it seemed that not many guests noticed when Reaver suddenly occupied the throne instead of the King. At 15 years old the Prince was much stronger than Logan had ever known him to be, or perhaps Logan had had more to drink than he thought. He thought it strange that they went past the training rooms, and stopped to stare at the Prince, confused as to why they were in Logan's bedroom.

"Baby Bird…what?" Logan's fogged brain attempted to process what was going on.

"I can't tell him, I can't tell him because he's my brother," the Prince whispered and pressed Logan against the door, kissing him deeply. Logan's mind was a blank, his hands working of their own volition to pull his brother closer, lips mindlessly returning the kiss. The Prince was persistent, pulling Logan out of his armor and shirt, running his fingers over the hard muscles of his older brother's chest and relishing the easy way that Logan gave in to him.

"M…my Prince…" Logan's addled mind could hardly focus. He was disoriented when the Prince swung him around and toppled him to the bed with speed and strength that the alcohol had denied Logan.

"I love you Logan, I've always loved you. And I can't wait, not even one more year," the Prince breathed and kissed his brother again, Logan's lips responding of their own accord. The King finally groaned and pulled his brother's body closer, demanding the kiss grow deeper, and battling his brother's invading tongue with his own. There was a bit of a contest of strength, as they vied for dominance, but the Prince won out and Logan's body was pressed heavily to the mattress.

"B…Baby Bird, ah, I l…love you too. But…aren't you a bit young to be wasting your time on someone as old as I am?" Logan moaned and his brother kissed his jaw. The Prince just laughed, his lips coming to hover just inches over his brother's.

"You would have been younger, a few years ago, when I first wanted you. You'd have only been 17 dear brother, would you have allowed me the pleasure of your touch then?" the Prince whispered, running his hands down to the belt that was meant to secure his brother's ceremonial sword. He grinned widely and kissed Logan once again when the trapped King bucked his hips.

"When you were nine? No, not a chance. That would have been wrong of me, Gods; even now…I shouldn't…" Logan was silenced once again with a demanding kiss that burned away all rational thought. The Prince stripped away his own shirts and vest, casting them to the floor and pressing himself against Logan's chest, kissing any flesh that he could reach.

"I'm legal Logan, you know that, you aren't taking advantage of me, I want you. I want you so badly it hurts," the Prince breathed and Logan groaned lightly, trailing his hands over his younger brother's sides and holding him close.

"I…I want you too…my dear brother," Logan breathed softly, his hands shifting to grasp his brother's hips. The Prince grinned into the kiss and quickly relieved the King of his pants, gazing down at his brother's naked body with a devilish laugh. Hands already warm from exploring other portions of the King's body trailed their way down and began stroking Logan's arousal. At once the King gave in, moaning low in his throat and allowing his hands to fist into the sheets covering the bed, his hips having a mind of their own that desperately wanted him closer to his brother.

"Will you let me make love to you Logan?" the Prince whispered softly as he slipped out of his own pants, a slight smile playing over his lips at Logan's reaction to their bare flesh meeting. The King lifted a pale hand to cup his brother's face, drawing him down so that their lips met in what was the softest kiss of the evening. It was all the confirmation that the Prince needed.

While he was not as tall as his brother the younger man confidently took charge of their interaction, claiming Logan's body for himself. For his part the King held on and allowed himself to be taken, enjoying the pleasure granted to him by his brother, his lover.

(A/N: Okay, I hope you liked it. No I don't have an ETA for the next chapter because I don't know if I like it yet and there have been bigger things to worry about than making Reaver behave long enough to be written about. Review if you liked it ^_^ no flames please, because I did warn you, and I can't be blamed for you self-flagellating types.)


	6. All Down Hill from Here

(A/N: I am terribly sorry to have been gone for so long. I don't own Fable III and this is still incest. I will just get right on with it.)

Chapter 6—All Down Hill from Here

Hours later, Logan's eyes fluttered open. He could feel his brother's body still wrapped around his own, and relished the warmth. It was something that he never wanted to lose. But they were not the only ones in the room, and aware of this, Logan pulled the blanket over their naked bodies. The action earned a chuckle form the room's third occupant.

"I've only been staring at it the past hour," Reaver said pleasantly, crossing his legs and leaning back in the chair that he'd placed next to the bed. Logan groaned and slid his hand over his face before allowing himself to meet his father's eyes. He expected disappointment, anger, something negative, but not the smile that Reaver wore.

"Reaver," Logan glanced back at his brother and sighed. "Father, might I ask, why you're here," the King breathed, he had a slight headache. The alcohol always got to him in the end, the industrialist seemed perfectly fine.

"Well, I just thought that I'd let you know that I saw to it that your guests were shown out. Civilly I promise. That, and well, how could I resist having a look at my progeny? You're both glorious, gorgeous, you really do take after me, don't you my King. Our dear Baby Bird, my God does he remind me of Sparrow," Reaver's eyes had that clouded wistful look once again. Logan couldn't help smiling at it, though it still felt kind of strange. He should have known that Reaver wouldn't be above sneaking a peak, or rather an hour long show while doing god knows what.

"He's beautiful. I know that I shouldn't love him…"

"Oh, it's perfectly alright. No one's going to blame you. So tell me, my dear Logan…who had who?" Reaver said with a smirk and Logan sighed when his brother's arms tightened around him. Answering was the best way to get the night over with.

"He took me, if you really must pester so. And I liked it. Going to disown me?" Logan muttered, shifting so that the Prince lie on his chest.

"Of course not. I'm just trying to see how long you last before you become too uncomfortable to keep talking," Reaver smirked softly and then his face sobered. "It's just…do you love him?"

"More than anything. More than anything in this world. I love him more than Albion, or my own life," Logan tightened his arm around the sleeping Prince, thinking about what the blind Seer woman had said years ago. He just knew that Reaver was there because of that woman, and years later he still didn't understand how he had known.

"He deserves your love, and you deserve his. Give it while you can Logan; love him as much as you can. He's going to need it because you only have a year my darling boy. I shouldn't be telling you except that it's my place in history to tell you. One year, make it the happiest that you can, for the both of you. And then everything changes, everything," Reaver spoke softly, sadly. Logan nodded, running his fingers through the Prince's hair, it had to come sometime.

"I just hope that I live long enough to make things right. I know that I can't prevent whatever's going to happen, and I don't know if I can try, I just can't take the thought…" Logan kissed a sleepy Prince as the younger man unconsciously shifted around, getting closer for warmth.

"I know. Neither can I. You're both mine, and I know that I will love you both no matter what. But I'll take care of him if it comes to it, you know that I'll keep him as safe as possible," Reaver said and Logan nodded gently. The conversation was over, and Reaver was walking out as Logan gave into sleep.

When the morning came, the Prince was still twined around Logan's body, and strangely, it felt like he'd woken up that way morning after morning, almost like it was meant to be. He kissed his younger brother softly on the lips and bright grey eyes opened in a flash of panic. Logan almost backed off, wondering if perhaps the younger man didn't remember the night that they had shared, but then those plump pouting lips were pressing into his with desperation and urgency. When they came up for air, there was an intensity written into his brother's face that Logan couldn't place.

"By Avo, I thought it was a dream," the younger of the pair breathed and a smile blossomed over Logan's lips.

"Nope, you were quite persistent in making sure that it wasn't a dream at all," Logan replied, kissing the Prince's forehead.

"I love you Logan. And, thanks…for letting me…you know," the Prince breathed and it was all that Logan could do to lie there and blush.

"And I love you too my Prince. But I think that you and I have long enough to settle the score," Logan whispered once he had regained himself and kissed his brother possessively.

The next ten months were spent stealing every moment that they could together, the pair made no secrets about their relationship either. Logan was often found in the throne room with his brother planted firmly in his lap, his arms wrapped around that slender waist and a smug smile on his lips. More than once a blushing servant girl stole away down a corridor at high speed, and the rest of the staff knew that the alcove she had been attending to was otherwise occupied.

They knew better than to enter either set of quarters, for the pair were known to simply choose the closest available space and both men had venom tongues early in the morning. Meals between the brothers became a private affair that staff attended to as silently as possible, averting their eyes from clasped hands and softly grinning lips.

Logan doted upon his brother like a man with a simpering young wife and with the two of them always together the country flourished. The Prince learned everything that his brother had yet to teach him and was soon capable of running the country by himself for a time, which turned out to be a good thing.

An emissary from Aurora knelt before the throne, her dark eyes fixed with no small amount of curiosity upon the sibling pair. In a voice almost too low to be heard, she laid out the issues surrounding her country and entreated Logan to come to their aid, to at the very least give a tour of the country. The King agreed, for he was a kind man who felt deeply for those who could not protect themselves. The Prince swore a temporary oath to hold the throne for his brother and the next day, after a private tearful goodbye, Logan was gone.

For two months, the Prince ruled Albion in the same peaceful fashion that Logan had, the people respected him for it.

But then Logan returned in a flourish of fury and fire. And things were broken, the country set to sink into an abyss of fear and corruption. Logan did not seem to recognize the face of the brother he loved so much and the Prince was a hollow shell for such knowledge.

(A/N: So I am again sorry for being gone so long, and I did not intend for it to be this way. I know this chapter probably isn't up to par, but I will do my best to get back on track soon. Leave me a review to tell me what you think.)


	7. An End to it All

(A/N: I hate myself for letting this go so long. I know that I can't do it the justice that I wanted to, but now I can say that it is done at least. I don't own Fable 3 and I never will. There is still slash and incest in this so you are warned. Anyway, I know that I was gone for a very long time, and I know that I put this on hiatus, but I swear that it is done now. No more worrying about when this sad sack excuse for a writer is going to update!)

Chapter 7—An End to it All

"He changed…there's nothing you can do about that," Elliot said, voice almost gone cold as he lie on one of the garden benches. The Prince sat on the ground beside the bench, head tipping back against Elliot's thigh, basking in the morning sun.

"It isn't Logan. You know that Elliot. You have seen him. Those damned Auroran bastards had to show up and ask for his help. Everyone knew that he wasn't ever able to say no to anyone," the Prince muttered darkly, fist clenching against his thigh. Elliot slid one hand down, carefully splaying his fingers over the Prince's chest and pressing lightly in simulation of a hug.

"There isn't a drop of that love left in him now. He left his throne and his heart with you. If you really want to do something…then do something. Don't sit here and talk to my worthless ass. I'm not changing anything. That rebel Paige was a fool," Elliot said bluntly and the Prince turned his head to consider his friend. It was true that Elliot had been approached by the resistance; Paige had contacted him through an unfortunate link with Walter. For their treason they had suffered, Walter was still rotting in the dungeons and Paige had been put to the musket. The Prince felt no sorrow for them, all of his sadness had been used up on Logan over the past two years.

"Fine, I will do something about it. Meet me in the library tonight," he said, tapping Elliot on the shoulder as he stood, reminding him to get out of the sun before too long. With a grunt of acknowledgement Elliot waved him on his way and rolled over on the bench, curling up to nap in the light. Logan had spoiled the young man by making him a noble, he really had.

With single-minded determination the Prince strode through the castle, his sword at his side ensuring that guards and servants stood well back from him. Upon reaching the War Room he schooled his face into the same emotionless mask that Logan had worn for the last two years and pushed the doors open. As always Logan was alone, brooding over the map that stood in the center of the room. On it several pockets of resistance had been marked, the one in Bowerstone Industrial had long since been cleared away. The focus had shifted to the treasonous mutterings of the Dweller people.

"Logan," the Prince greeted in a crisp tone, coming to stand beside his brother. He did not regret that his love for Logan had stripped him of the morals and ethics that he had learned over the years. Logan was more important than all of Albion to him.

"You were with Elliot in the gardens?" Logan stated both a question and an accusation. Logan could not seem to remember their romance, nights shared in sleep and lovemaking, but he still bore the jealousy of such a love.

"Indeed, the lazy bastard's asleep on me again. I would rather spend my time here anyway," the Prince said, placating, begging Logan to remember what such a declaration would have led to in the past.

"Nobles are inclined to do whatever they feel like. Elliot has learned that lesson with some ease. But I do enjoy your company," Logan said, voice going soft, and for just a moment there was a glimmer of something in his eyes. The Prince jumped at the tiny opening and wrapped his arms around Logan's middle, pulling him close. King Logan raised an eyebrow at his brother, confused yet not. When soft lips pressed up against his own scarred ones, his mind went absolutely blank. His brother loved him.

He loved his brother.

How could he have ever forgotten?

"Baby Bird?" Logan breathed, leaning back and staring wide-eyed at the younger man. Tears came to the Prince's eyes and Logan's arms drew tight around him.

"Logan?" the Prince asked, suddenly so hopeful that it hurt. Logan nodded and dove for his brother's lips, kissing him senseless.

Sobbing and clinging to Logan seemed an appropriate response and so the Prince did just that, smiling like a fool when Logan did the same. They had been apart for two years, which was a very long time.

"What on earth is going on?" Logan whispered and kissed his brother's head.

"You've been changed Logan. You came back from Aurora and were…you were so different," the Prince said, as if frightened to summon that darkness back to them.

"I was afraid, terrified, lost in such all-consuming blackness. You weren't there. It was like you had never existed," Logan said, raining more kisses down upon the Prince and holding him tight. The evil that Theresa had shown him had claimed his mind. He knew that, and yet, here he stood, his brother in his arms, awake at last. He stared in horror at the war map and knew that the darkness within him had done awful things to Albion, things he would have to repair.

"I should have known…I should have kissed you sooner. Forgive me Logan, for not bringing you back sooner," the Prince said and Logan shook his head, too relieved and happy to care. They kissed again and again before the Prince dragged Logan away to the bed that they had so frequently shared. They could fix the kingdom together, but first they needed to fix their hearts.

(A/N: I know, I know, not the greatest ending, but I hope that it works for you. Leave a review to let me know what you thought. Thanks folks, and that's all from me!)


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